In September 2018, Hurricane Florence was heading for the southeast coast of the United States. Being in North Carolina, my daughter, L., and I prepped for the storm by buying batteries and non-perishable food, filling up the gas cans, and securing lightweight yard items.
We lined two large plastic trashcans with thick plastic bags and filled them with water, one for L.’s bathroom on the first floor, which only had a shower, and one for my bathroom upstairs that had a bathtub. We also filled the bathtub with water. We figured more water was better than less water if the power went out and the well wasn’t working.
Evening came, and the wind picked up as the storm headed in our direction.
L. and I decided to keep Rusty the Mighty Hunter, our 9-year-old, cream-colored cat, in for the night. Rusty was rather annoyed by this. He preferred to roam the field next door at night and snack on mice, although he would take a mouse-snack whenever the opportunity presented itself. We only kept him in at night during severe weather events or when it was dangerously cold.
The rain and wind of Florence began in earnest. Not long after midnight, the power did indeed go out.
L. dutifully started the portable gas generator which took several pulls of the cord. The rain was coming sideways on L, and she was soaked by the time she got inside. While she worked on the generator, I tossed the extension cord down the steps to the sump pump in the basement. Rusty was hiding behind the couch at this point; he hadn’t been a fan of high wind, thunder, or lightning since a tornado passed quite close to the house several years earlier.
L. refilled the generator a few hours later which was a battle in itself that resulted in salty language. After that, we decided to get some sleep. Rusty was still behind the couch at that time. I went up the stairs to my bedroom and closed my door. At least I thought I closed it.
I was awakened out of a deep sleep at about 5:45 a.m. by the sound of a crash and a sploosh.
Immediately I thought the plastic trashcan full of water in my bathroom had broken. Dread came over me. But then I saw a cat-shaped shadow streak through my bedroom and out the door.
I realized what had happened, and I laughed until tears ran down my face imagining poor Rusty taking an unexpected plunge into the water-filled bathtub. He had a habit of jumping into the bathtub and pawing the sides to get my attention. I don’t know what he wanted right then, but I’m sure it wasn’t a bath!
The comic relief was just what I needed after the previous days of hurricane prep and the tension an approaching storm brings.
I finally stopped laughing enough to call downstairs to L. She came to the bottom of the steps, and I managed to mutter out enough words between laughs to explain what happened.
“Where’s Rusty now?” she asked.
“I don’t know. Somewhere down there.”
L. looked around and finally found a disgruntled and soaked-to-the-skin Rusty standing at the back door…hunched over, ears down, and the fur on the middle of his back sticking up despite being wet.
L. dried him off, which he appreciated, and then opened the door for him to look outside. He changed his mind about going out when he realized the wind and rain had not ceased, and he disappeared behind the couch again. He finally emerged long enough to use the litter box, but otherwise remained hidden until the storm had somewhat passed.
Until we moved from that house in 2021, Rusty would sometimes walk into my bathroom and glance over the edge of the tub, but he never got into it again after that unexpected bath when Florence came to town.
Do you have any funny fur baby stories to tell? I’d love to hear about them.
Copyright © 2024 Nancy H. Vest All Rights Reserved
Leave a Reply